A Million Smiles
by Artman25
Summary: A freak accident in the real world, a man struggling with 'voices' in his head and another wanting to do good. Will things ever be the same? Or are they forever changed?


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, Batman & Characters belong to DC Comics. I do **NOT** plan to distribute this fanfiction for monetary gain… it's just for fun and enjoyment, nothing else. And **I DO NOT** intend copyright infringement.

**A Million Smiles**

PART ONE

**A War Between Many**

He sighed as he walked up to the Diner's front door. His palm just barely touching the cool glass plating of the handle. _I should leave_, he thought, his heart quickening for a moment as indecision gripped his tall, skinny frame. Swiftly turning, he pulled at his oversized, shabby blue hat. The fedora had slipped down, his movement being too much for the loosely fitting headgear. As he pulled it back in place his stomach decided that 'now' was the time to voice its displeasure. Reminding him of his hunger in a very loud way. It growled out a noise that he was sure all of the other bystanders could hear. _Well, I can't go back to my apartment, all the food's gone. I need to eat something, I'll just buy a few things and leave. In and out._ He severely hoped no one would notice him. Of course that was probably impossible now, having bright green hair and a pale-white complexion would undoubtedly draw in the onlookers. At the very least, they'd just stare… But if he was truly honest with himself, he was beginning to enjoy the attention, if only a little. He shook his head, praying that THEY weren't actually getting to him.

Alex took in a deep breath, finally seizing his confidence by the throat, urging himself on as he pushed the door open. At once, the cool air hit him with the chilliness of a blizzard. Part of his mind wondered why they kept it so darn cold. The place was nice, the cream colored walls gave an air of warmth, friendliness and ease about the building. The layout was similar to the nearby Braum's, cashier was up front, tables and chairs to the left and a small section of other goods on the right. As he expected, everyone in the building stared at him, but at the moment he didn't care. He was so hungry. He hadn't left his apartment in over a week, preferring to stay inside and figure out what happened to him. He'd like to say that he kept a level head, but that just wasn't true. In truth, once he realized his new appearance wasn't a hallucinogenic nightmare, he screamed in panic…but that wasn't really what scared him. The impulses were, the itching desire to pick up a knife, a gun and… _No, I wont do that!_ Alex nearly snarled to himself. By now he was at the front, looking at the choices on the large wall-mounted menu. The girl behind the register looked at him in surprise, eyebrows turned up slightly. Then she lowered them, probably thinking he was one of those cosplayers, or something. He strummed his fingers against the grey counter top, a way of calming the insanity rushing about in his mind. It helped. Ever since that night Alex had Their, feelings and thoughts squirming around in his head. He was trying to fight them, he really was…but he was wearing out.

"Can I help you, sir?" The cashier asked in surprise as she saw him approach. Her dark hair bound into a ponytail swished as she looked him in the eyes. He noticed the beige-colored cap on her head displayed the establishment's name.

**Graddies** was written in big pink letters within an old style wooden plank. Above was the etching of a sweet elderly woman with spectacles. In keeping with the theme, she had on a light tan shirt and black slacks. The scent of strawberry perfume wafted into his nostrils as she waited for his reply. His stomach brought him back to what he was here for, aching more than it had when he was back at home. Alex glanced at the menu again, deciding once and for all what he wanted.

"Yes, I'd like a number eight with a medium-sized drink, twelve box lunches and five breaded wraps, please," he said in a soft tone, praying that she wouldn't…

"Okay, will that be for here or to go?" Again she looked and this time sounded, surprised. Though he couldn't blame her, how many people would order this much food and not be more, bulky.

At least she hadn't commented on his appearance, or voice.

"To go," he replied crisply with relief while she punched in the order. By now more people were gawking at him, a few even took pictures. Alex gritted his teeth in frustration. A part of him hated it yet another part, the evil sadistic and twisted side that was starting to emerge, reveled in the attention. THEY craved it, so why shouldn't Alex? After all he now wore one of THEIR faces, had THEIR impulses. And other parts of THEM were beginning to bleed through. Each 'click' of a camera fed them, each stare stoked their fires, it was getting harder to resist. He twitched his fingers involuntarily on the left, the right having balled up into a tight fist. His nails started to dig into the clown-white colored flesh of his palm, the grey trench coat shifted as his body tensed, seething in irritation. Eventually the clicks and stares stopped, the other customers were going back to their meals. For that, he was immensely grateful, the urges lessened a bit.

"So, Mr…?" she asked after he had paid the total amount for the food. It was somewhere near forty-seven dollars, but he didn't pay too much attention to it as he swiped his credit card through. He was hungry, and he'd get sick if he didn't eat soon.

"Verza," he supplied for her in a neutral tone. She looked up, as did most when he mentioned his last name. The girl shrugged for a second, then spoke again as she entered his name for the order, printing out the receipt and handing it to him. Alex noticed that it had a number on the bottom-left side: 11940. She began to dig around for something, eventually pulling out a pager.

"…You going to the Comic Convention in the city, right?" She took a moment to look at his face, at the same time handing him the black box. Alex took the device in his hand, ready to walk away. He stopped as he heard her next comment. "I mean, that's a great Joker costume you got there…" she praised him on what she thought was a fake get up. "Plus, the Mark Hamill voice really adds realism to it." He swallowed hard, the word 'Joker' brought the urges back full force. They clawed at his nerves like ravenous wolves, one of HIS 'voices' suddenly spewed forth and slithered inside his brain.

_**Come on, just try it! You always said I was your favorite.**_ The Joker's voice echoed within his skull, going from a high almost pleading tone at the beginning, to a lower oily one as he came to the word 'favorite'. And it was true, until a few weeks ago that is. He had been a fan of the villain and his many incarnations, not to the extent that some people were…but still.

_Shut up!_ Alex shot back, trying to block out this Joker's voice like he did before. Unlike the others this one was more 'tolerable'. Others, the mere thought of them made his blood turn to ice. Oh, yes, there were more of them running around in his head, from what he could tell it was every incarnation ever conceived or thought of.

_**Naughty boy, such foul language!**_ Joker intoned, like that of a parent scolding a child. _**And here I thought you were 'better' than that. Just think what we can do to you in your dreams tonight.**_ He growled out, _**We could hamstring you, or sever your head!**_ At this the disembodied voice began to laugh, a high pitch of maniacal mirth spilling over. The Joker cackled at Alex's anger and fear, the laughter coming to an end on an even higher note than usual, it was…unsettling. However, the mere mention of "what we can do to you in your dreams," and "hamstringing" brought him close to tears, he knew what they would do. They couldn't touch him when he was awake, for that he was thankful, but at night when he was asleep and dreaming? They did unspeakable things to him: torture, mutilation and much worse. His real body didn't have a single scratch or wound, but his mental state was completely different… Alex had tried not going to sleep, but that left him with horrific migraines after a few days. Adding to the torment during these migraines, the Jokers were more persistent. Eventually, he became numb almost distant to the dreams. He had also tried pills, but they were no help. If anything the little capsules made him nauseous, drowsy, fearful or gave him strange hallucinations. Like a clam riding a unicycle with multicolored eyes, shouting at him to "Do the twist!" All accompanied by millions of Jokers giggling in the background… beyond that, a disturbing Earth-like vortex casting odd shadows of elves.

Needless to say, he didn't want that experience to be… relived.

_**Oooh! Thinking about the clam again?**_ Joker asked in an excited laugh-filled tone, jarring Alex out of his thoughts. He didn't need this right now.

_BE QUIET!_ Alex snarled, this time being able to drown out the maniac with his own 'voice'. Blessed silence answered him back. There were few versions of the Joker that were good. So it was mostly just him trying to fight off the rest. Unfortunately, the good ones hadn't sprung up in a while. His mind was a literal melting pot of 'evil vs. evil vs. neutral' and Alex was at the center.

**TO BE CONTINUED…?**


End file.
